


The Boy Next Door

by cristaadams



Category: The Boy (2016 Bell)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Mystery, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:54:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26458267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cristaadams/pseuds/cristaadams
Summary: Sam thinks it's all cute as she exchanges love letters with a boy she's never met before. But will she think the same when she finally meets Brahms in person?Sam moved in next to the Heelshire's mansion. She refuses to believe that the house is abandoned after exchanging written letters with a stranger who claims to live in it. Despite the tall tales, Sam thinks there is nothing to fear. But is it all just gossip?
Relationships: Brahms Heelshire & Original Character(s), Brahms Heelshire & Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18





	1. Moving In

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place a year after Greta left. It's also an alternative to Brahms: The Boy II because I didn't like it. Lol. Although Sam is an original character, her features resemble the readers for a more immersive experience. Enjoy!

**N** o one can find me now. No one will ever figure out where I've run to. Not even my friends. The cops will never get anything from my friends nor my neighbors. Hell, I'm talking as if I've committed a crime when I just ghosted everyone. It's not like they'll come look for me anyway. I've been away from the world and afk online for a week--yet nobody really noticed. Not even my coworkers.

It feels amazing moving to a new place. I have the freedom to meet people or even not have human interaction without feeling guilty. They don't know me in the first place, anyway.

Free from responsibility. Free from shame. I'm able to start over in England and can do whatever I want. I can even scream at the top of my lungs right now and I wouldn't care if people looked at me.

I take a deep breath and let out a scream right before laughing like an idiot. A bright smile is plastered on my face as I look up at the nice, old house I bought. I look around and notice that I didn't even have neighbors. How lucky. I used to live next door to a bunch of weirdos and nosy old people. But here? I have all the space I need.

Hurriedly, I grabbed my one and only luggage and squeezed myself through the space between the old fence. It was a little stubborn. I had to use both my hand and heel to push the fence to close it again. The weed growing under it got caught at the bottom of the wooden fence. Clearly, the place had to be renovated a bit since it's been a long while since someone lived here.

The owner was a young woman in her 30s who didn't bother to give me a final tour. I don't mind, though, but it would've been nice to help me around. I guess she was too busy trying to sell her parents' old houses as she often brought up. I sure hope it's the only reason why she wanted to sell it so quick and cheap. I hope not because someone had been murdered in it.

I chuckled at the thought. I really should not have watched that Halloween film during the flight. Really not a good idea when you're about to live alone. But come to think of it...if I did find a ghost, that would be single most exciting thing to happen in my life. I shook my head and sneered.

A few steps in and past the bushes, I set my eyes on a beautiful garden that had almost devoured the front door of the house. Flowers and weed had surrounded it. At that point, my fear had disappeared and turned into awe.

How could I judge so quickly? The old, ugly house hid beauty behind the tall bushes. After this realization, excitement churned from the pit of my stomach until I let out a giggle. I had never felt this excited in a long time. I hugged my luggage against my chest and ran towards the front door.

☀

Using the old kettle on the counter top reminded me of my electric kettle back home. It was much more convenient living a life before this. I suddenly became aware of the reality in front of me; I am living alone in the middle of an old town in England.

England! Who would've thought?

Dropping all my responsibilities and people back home is surely a huge decision. But so far, I feel lighter. It's all new to me, but what's important is I feel lighter.

Lighter but...lonelier? No. I can't be thinking this way too fast. I had just spent one day and had not even explored. It's not as if I'm planning to say hi to my neighbors, as if I had any, but it would be nice to know the different spots I'll be staying at. A nice space to read, have a picnic, or listen to music. Anything I can do that I never had the chance to do back home.

I drew the dusty curtain and observed the sky. Then, I unlocked my phone to check the time. It's 5:45 PM and the sun is nearing its descent. I could try walking about even just for a few minutes, I thought to myself. I was too excited to become familiar with the new place I called home. So, I grabbed my jacket and headed out.

After a while, I spotted a nice field. It was too broad for me to roam freely, but I hesitated, scared that I would encounter a new person. I wasn't really in the mood to talk to anyone. I did make the move to ghost friends and I wasn't all that ready to make new ones.

So, I headed back home...or so I thought. One wrong turn and I got lost. But of course, I expected this to happen. Good thing I used a GPS to pin my new house. I was on my way back until I saw a narrow way heading towards another part of the woods.

I did have a neighbor!

—A rich neighbor. I gaped at the sight of the mansion. I didn't take another step, fearing that somebody might see me and think I'm some prying neighbor. I used to hate the Johnsons when I caught them staring whenever I left the house. I wouldn't want to do the same to other people.

So I headed back with the help of my GPS and continued my exploration in my small house. I was happy there was electricity and water running. But I did need to install a few things the next day, I told myself. There was a lot to renovate.

The next day, I headed to town by foot. It was not a good idea. It took me a few minutes to arrive and decided I was going to have to buy a bicycle. So I did.

After paying for the bicycle at the counter, the old man handed my change and smiled. I knew small talk was bound to happen. Although I evaded it at the grocery store, it was impossible to avoid it when the man was obviously talking to me.

"Having a party?"

I started to wonder if small talk with any stranger was normal in this town.

I let out a light chuckle, "Oh no," I loaded the grocery bags in the basket attached to the bicycle. "Just stocking up."

His eyes lit up, "Are you the nice, young lass who just bought Jones' kid's house?"

At such a small town, I really shouldn't have been that surprised people talked.

"Yeah, I did. It's wonderful." I was trying to gesture that I was ready to leave and wasn't planning to stay for a chat. But he went on and asked a few more questions.

He leaned on the counter and grimaced, "You get enough kip in that house?"

"I'm sorry?"

"If you need anything, you can always ring me and the missus." Just in time, his wife had walked out of their little office and into the store with a smile. She must have heard the whole thing.

"Thanks," I managed to say before the old woman began talking as well with a smile so bright her crow's feet showed.

She nodded, "Meryl," she put out her hand for me to shake. Then she added, "We're part of the town watchers. I sure hope we didn't scare ya. I told Jacob not to get too excited meeting new folks."

I realized I warmed up a bit. The thought reminded me of my grandmother. She wanted me to stay with her at her little house since I was 15. She always told me it was because she didn't get to talk to many people. I didn't know that wasn't the only reason why. I brushed the thought away and smiled at the couple awaiting my response.

"No worries, I'm glad to have met you both. It's nice to know someone now."

"Oh we'd gladly tour ya or introduce ya to—"

I shook my head. I really didn't want to. I had to politely decline and they understood. But Jacob offered that they drove me back.

Although I was not in the mood to talk, I did need the help. I was planning on having the new kettle, modem, and sheets delivered to the house. But I would be able to save a few.

They're good people, I convinced myself. Plus, they already know where I live. In case anything, it would be nice to know people who could help me if I ever was in need.

☀

"I really appreciate this a lot, Mr. and Mrs. Martin." I say, nodding since my hands were trying to keep the bicycle balanced which carried everything I bought.

They waved before driving back. I used up all my strength to bring everything inside on my own while my mind was busy thinking of what I had learned from the old couple. I asked about the town and heard nothing but good things except for them not winning the best town award which I found really cute.

It was not as if everyone was jolly and friendly all the time. But it did seem like a humble town. It was nice enough to live in for a long time. I sure hope I could live here for a long time.

I sat at the chair with new sheets I bought to cover the old cushions. I closed my eyes and tried to take a nap but couldn't. It was too early. I thought it would take me the whole day but I had enough time to explore before sundown.

I grabbed my jacket, airpods, and keys then left home. I played my favorite song on full volume and sang along, knowing no one could hear me. By the time chorus hit, I quickly looked around, and sang at the top of my lungs. Hell, I even danced!

Times like this used to be something I enjoyed alone in the dark in my bedroom. Who would have thought I could do the same in an open space in a totally different place? I felt so free not knowing anyone, anything, and felt like myself. I danced, sang, jumped on rocks, logs, and twirled like a weirdo. I couldn't care less.

But as I twirled again, my airpod flew out of my ear, cutting the music. I realized how idiotic I probably looked. But nevermind that! I f*ckin lost my airpod and panicked. I really should not have been so reckless.

I looked around, squinting at the ground, hoping to find a tiny, white object. I tried using my phone's flashlight but it was no help. But I kept looking, constantly glancing at the time on my phone. I had a full hour before night time. I took my time and tried to retrace my steps and where it possibly flew.

But I stopped when I heard leaves crunch behind me. I wanted to think some good neighbor would appear and help but there was no one behind me. "Hello?" I called out just to be sure, but as expected, no one responded. I started looking again and found nothing.

I could buy a new one. It's not like I didn't have time.

As I gave up, I heard a faint voice behind me, saying "Hello."

I quickly turn around. My heart was pounding. Someone definitely was there. But I couldn't see anyone. I looked farther and saw the mansion behind the bushes. I suddenly felt embarrassed. Somebody might have seen me. I hurried back home instead to avoid the humiliation I might have gotten if I stayed and waited for someone to show up. I would rather think no one saw me dancing like an idiot.

But of course, I couldn't wait. I drove the bicycle to the store in the hopes of finding new airpods.

"Back so soon?" Meryl joked. She was at the cash register this time.

I grimaced, "Yeah, I forgot to get myself a pair of airpods."

"Airpods?"

I showed her what I had left and shook her head. "I'm afraid you can find that at the mall."

"Where's the nearest one?"

"I'm afraid that's an hour away from here."

Unfortunately, I had to drive back empty handed. I pushed myself inside and closed the stubborn fence. As I made my way to the porch, I noticed a tiny, white object at the floor.

"What?" I whispered to myself. I looked around then at the floor. Slowly, I picked up the airpod, confusion etched all over my face.

There was one explanation for this. Someone did see me and they...

...they are playing a game on me.

☀

From afar, behind the tall, uncut bushes, hid Brahms in his unwashed cardigan and trousers. He knew he was in no good shape to show up and would therefore scare Sam. That was the last thing he wanted to do to someone he found beautiful.

Brahms did not usually walk out of the house. He never went as far as beyond the garden nor the woods. But once he set his eyes on her through the porcelain mask, he was dumbstruck. He could not look away. He watched her move with a smile on her face. He had never seen a woman with her features. She was different.

Beautiful in her own way; moved in her own way. It was what he admired. In an instant, he found an obsession. But the smile disappeared from both their faces when a small, white object flew at his direction. Quickly, he rushed to the side and away from her sight.

He waited and until he heard her come closer. She was so close that he heard her panting. The bushes were the only thing blocking his view. He wanted to see where she was and attempted to move but made a sound with his thick boots.

Later, when he looked away, he peeked through the branches and saw her worried face. She was even closer this time. She must had been sure that the object she was looking for was where he was but could not tell where.

Just as she stood inches away from her, the bush serving as a barrier, he attempted to speak. But he knew it would be foolish. He fought the voices in his head that told him to leave her alone. But his heart told him to speak. He managed to utter a faint, "Hello," but her shriek had scared him.

He kept hidden. Somehow, hiding from her seemed fun for him. Just like the game he used to play. He always found it amusing how good he was at the game. He liked outsmarting people. It was what he was taught, afterall, by his parents. It was not as if he liked hiding. It was the only thing he was good at.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How was that? Make sure you leave 'kudos' or a comment so I know whether to continue with the story or not. Your messages really help motivate me to create more. Thanks! :D


	2. Cookies

**S** am raised the airpod and looked around before sarcastically saying, "Thanks. A lot." Clearly embarrassed, she entered the house.

Sam might have felt embarrassed enough to leave her new home for a couple of days, but it is undeniable that she had found the previous incident a tad bit exciting. It was one of the small things that kept her mind occupied. Although she had not met her neighbor-or neighbors, she wasn't sure yet-Sam had a feeling that they weren't snobbish. What kind of person would even take their time to return a lost earbud to a neighbor they also have not met? Some snobbish rich man probably would not.

She couldn't remember how her neighbor sounded like as she only heard a faint "Hello". It was hard to tell. And even if she was interested to know, showing up at their yard to introduce herself really was not part of her plans. Her only plan up to now was to stay at home and try to forget her embarrassing performance.

Brahms, on the other hand, had no plans of forgetting the woman he laid eyes on that afternoon. When he saw the smile on her face and heard her voice, he was utterly dumbstruck. He had never seen a woman do such a thing before. In the Heelshire mansion, he was locked up. He only saw women dance on the telly. Never in real life. Greta never danced nor sang so loud and so lively, nor did the previous ones who had been to the house. He had never seen such grace, cheerfulness, and beauty in a woman.

She was a breath of fresh air.

He smelled her, too, even from a distance. Her fragrance was alluring despite it reminding him of the flowers that the groundkeeper used to grow in the garden. How he wished he could smell her and see her up close. And if he was lucky, he would like to touch her, too. Maybe feel her. But that was difficult.

Brahms had never left the house for a long time. Regardless of being capable of defending himself from anyone who might attack him or report him from the authorities, he just had not explored the world outside yet. It was dangerous especially when he exposed himself to people. He did not want to hide underground this time instead of the walls. But this woman...she was making him do things he had not done before.

Like walking up to her cottage and smell her up close. Clearly impossible and yet...he had to.

Brahms, who had read hundreds of books and watched crap telly to keep up with the outside world, had decided to change his approach. Romantic comedies would be shown on some channels. But of course, romcoms aren't like real life. Although he would've tried this with Greta, he never had the chance considering being forced out of the walls by her ex boyfriend.

But Brahms knew he had to do what he knew best. And that was to approach her carefully. Because although this girl seemed different, they were all the same, he thought. They would all stare at him with wide eyes and run away. So he'd rather find a different, indirect way to get to her.

The following morning, Sam stared at the folded paper on the desk as she drank her coffee. She found it a few inches away from the door. The wind must have blown it away before she got home. It came with the airpod, she thought. At first, she believed it was just some paper that flew her way until she picked it up and unfolded a note.

In print, long strokes of handwriting, the note said: "This belongs to you."

Sam could remember the message without even looking at it but could not help but unfold it to read again. She tried to make up of the handwriting, wondering if it was written by a man or a woman. But either way, she hoped it was someone friendly and not someone who had fun embarrassing her.

Later that day, she was craving cookies and remembered the little bakery shop in town. This gave her the motivation to finally leave the house after a while. Maybe, she could hang by the lake as well and spend a little while there. She had nothing else to do anyway. And it seemed like a better alternative than dancing in the woods in front of a stranger.

In the bakery, she had to wait in line. The Hagen Bakery boasted of the best cookies in town which explained the long line and she didn't mind. It was not as if she had anything else planned throughout the day. As she stood in line, she looked around the store, gazing at the figurines and the butterfly decorations hanging from the roof. When her eyes looked below it, she saw an array of hardbound books. Beside it was newspapers hanging on a rack. When the line got shorter and she got closer to the newspaper rack, she browsed through it aimlessly until a photo caught her eye.

The batch of newspaper was the last of it. It was also dated almost a month ago. Sam immediately picked it up and read through the headline. Apparently, the mansion next door had been left abandoned and unclaimed.

Nobody wanted to buy the house considering gossip. Nobody even bothered to demolish it.

Sam was perplexed. If the house had been abandoned for almost a year, who had seen her, then? Maybe someone who was also passing by?

"Hello, what can I get you?" the young lady at the counter asked, tearing Sam's gaze away from the newspaper. She shook her head, "Sorry. Can I have two cookies? One chocolate chip and one classic for here." She could smell the newly hand baked batch that was being carried out of the kitchen.

The cashier nodded while pressing on buttons, "Anything else?"

Sam looked through the glass, grabbed a bottle of cranberry juice, and placed it on the counter as well.

"Anything else?"

The question hanged in Sam's head. She stared at the menu and thought for a split second. Then, she glanced at the cashier. "I'd like a box of the classic cookies."

"For here, as well?"

She smiled at the cashier, "No. To-go."

After spending some time at the lake, listening to a new song released by one of her favorite artists for a whole hour, Sam decided to walk home. She had not brought her bicycle with her. She decided to walk home and burn all the calories she devoured after eating two cookies. She carried the box of cookies with her and started walking.

She gazed at the trees, the birds, and the long stretch of road that led home. It was empty halfway through. Trees on either sides got taller and fewer. It might have looked like a ghost town but she still preferred it than her previous home. It was still far from the life she had known. Far from danger, far from fake people, and far from people who never really cared about her.

She tried her best to brush off that traumatic night. She was just glad she wasn't hurt. She should forget now. It was over. Being away from the city would guarantee safety in a smaller town, she thought.

But not far from a creepy mansion. But then again, she was not even sure if it was creepy. She had indirect contact with someone from there, maybe, and they weren't exactly hostile. It was best if she found out for herself.

Before she headed to the mansion, she went in her house to grab a pen and the paper she received. Behind it, she wrote, "Thanks. Now I can listen to music again. But not twirling around like an idiot. Here's a thank you."

Sam paused and thought for a while. Was she going to write down her name? Did she have to? Were they even interested?

"Just to be sure," she thought, then wrote down her name.

Sam brought the piece of paper and the box of cookies with her. She made sure the GPS was turned on so she would find her way back. The GPS could not find the mansion, so she had to make sure she knew her way to it. Finally, after seeing the sight of the mansion behind the tall bushes, she let out a sigh of relief. The cookies were not going to waste.

Sam stopped before taking another step. Once she took that step, she would be standing on someone else's territory. She did not like asserting which meant she did not like going to someone's house uninvited. But she was already there and had spent a few dollars. Why did she even buy it in the first place? Courtesy, yes. But did she really think this through?

Shaking her head and rolling her eyes at her indecisiveness, Sam finally took a step forward. Then, she went on to walk towards the mansion's front door. It was huge and wide. The mansion was old, as well. The walls needed painting and the roof looked like it was deteriorating. She read that it had been abandoned for God knows how many years, but if she were to bet, she'd guess it was at least five. But of course, she'll only know the truth by asking the owners themselves instead of believing the rumors that went around town and was imprinted on the town's newspaper.

Maybe it just needed to be renovated and people still lived in it. Maybe the family does not have enough money to spend for a renovation considering its size. She'll know once she knocked.

So, Sam did. She knocked twice, thrice, yet no one answered the front door. She began to feel nervous. If she knocked at an abandoned mansion, then it surely would be creepy how someone saw her dance in the woods. There was no one else but her and the people who supposedly lived there.

She knocked one last time. No answer.

Slowly, Sam placed the piece of paper under the box of cookies and left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do yall think so far?


	3. A Man

"The cookies were sweet, they're my favourite."

He slid the note beneath Sam's door when she was out. She found it amazing how he could always drop by without her catching him. Sure, she was dying to know who her neighbour was. But the mystery was far more enthralling. Hell, it was the most exciting thing that has happened for days.

Days, because she had not replied at all. She wasn't certain of the reason; maybe it was because she didn't know what else to say or that she wanted the person to come by. It would be nice to have human interaction — but not just to say 'hi' and 'hello' but to have actual conversations with.

She finally had internet, but the signal wasn't all that good. She had made herself a coffee, poured herself a cup, and drank quite a few times before it led her to Google. But Sam swore she would not let the internet drive her crazy. After all, she wanted to live away from the modern bustling world.

An old soul was she.

Maybe that's why all her exes never really lasted long. They were either too boring or immature for her — even if they were the same age. She wanted something challenging...something different.

But even though she has found something quite different, she still wasn't sure of what to do or how to handle it. Perhaps because she just didn't know how or Sam was worried she'd scare this one off too.

But it turned out to be the opposite. 

She stayed home for days. She had enough food in the fridge and didn't really need to make a run to the store. She had her books which she voraciously read at the front porch. Sam was waiting for someone to pass by but he never really came.

But she never really stopped hoping.

Just check on her, at least? Was he not interested? Or was he also an introvert?

She wished she could ask. But it seemed too late to send a letter.

"Fuck it," Sam throw herself on the bed and grabbed the notebook at the side. After writing three lines on the paper, she ripped it and went her own way.

* * *

Brahms didn't expect Sam to come by with a new letter. He observed her behind the tall bushes, watching her walk up the Heelshire's front porch. But he couldn't walk to the house right away and made sure Sam went straight home.

He was on his way to her house to wait and see if she was to sit by the front door to read like she usually did. She was a nice view — different from his usual sight. Instead of staring at an old TV monitor, he was staring at a real-life person. Uneventful for some, but absolutely brilliant for Brahms.

When Sam went back in the house, Brahms hurried home, excited to read what she had written on a new piece of paper.

"I want to get to know you more. Are you a guy or a girl? What's your name?"

He was surprised at her straightforwardness. Different was scary to a man like Brahms. But it was all the more...enticing. Slowly, he held the paper under his porcelain mask to smell the scent of her pen. The faint smell of ink was enough to fuel his imagination.

Brahms returned a letter in a quiet evening. By then, he thought, she would know he was coming. It had to be done a safer way. If she saw him, even in a long black coat, she would expect him to speak and look like a normal human being.

Like one of those men in the movies.

Brahms might have a peculiar taste for romance and intimacy, but that does not discount the fact that he is aware of how the real world goes. And he knew she would not stop and stare and fall in love like the women in the movies. Because he did not look like the men in the movies at all.

* * *

"A man. Brahms."

"Oh," Sam thought, "Someone does live there."

It was a relief. But although this should have pacified her, Sam was even more curious to know about Malcolm.

She had given up dating for two years, refusing to go on dates and ignoring messages. But now, there was a "man" next door sending her letters.

Although she's a hopeless romantic, Sam had always been careful around men, trying to find the right one. And meeting something with an air of distinctness was just her cup of tea. 

"Brahms," she whispered to herself. And a smile naturally formed on her lips.

By the window, Brahms stood, listening in. He had to make sure that she would not react badly when she read his name. It was a risk he took to give her real name. But lying wasn't his thing.

Brahms might be anything but a liar, he convinced himself.

If she ran, he could catch up to her, anyway.


	4. The Storm

Sam folded the letter neatly by the table before writing her name behind it. Then, in a second, she paused to think. Sam turned and quickly fished for the bottle of perfume inside her luggage, something she had not opened ever since she moved in. She paused again, deciding if it was a wise move to spray the letter.

She was worried it would send a different message. Unable to decide, Sam held out the paper quite from the bottle and spritzed lightly, just to get the letter to smell fragrant.

Then, she was off to the Heelshire mansion. But instead of leaving right away, Sam tried to knock once again. Maybe this time he'd show. It would be strange if he won't considering they both clearly know each other.

Sam stayed a little longer, persistent to meet Brahms. She wasn't the patient kind. Sam gripped the paper in her hand. 

One last knock, she convinced herself before stomping her way down the porch stairs.

Of course, she was disappointed. It was clear that Brahms wasn't really interested to meet her. She looked up at the Heelshire mansion, hoping she'd get a glimpse of a shadow of a man behind the windows. She hoped she did when she saw movement by the third window by the left.

Was he really avoiding her or was she just seeing things?

But if he wasn't really interested, he wouldn't respond to her messages, she tried to believe.

Unless he was married. She shook off the idea and hurried back to the porch to slide the letter under. But Sam didn't want to. She was hoping she'd hand it to him this time.

"I've got all day," she said to herself a little louder, just in case he really was avoiding her. Sam did not have anything else to do but read. And wasting her day to wait was just the same as the other days.

But he never came out.

Sam was hoping he'd show up. She had spent the last few days in denial that she wasn't lonely, that she wanted a life away from everyone but she knew half of it wasn't true. She knew that all she could ever want was to have someone who understood her for once.

And finally, she realised that she could not depend on a stranger for happiness.

Disheartened, Sam stood. And with eyes welling up, she spoke loudly, "Fine! You don't want to meet me, fine." She turned away, but hesitated and faced the tall door to express her dismay, "Y-you could've at least come out here to tell me you're married or uninterested! It's not that hard, B-brahms!" 

Her voice broke but she stood her ground, "Or you could at least tell me I'm not that pretty for you. Or complicated! That's what they all say!" She began laughing. 

After a while, Sam realised he was never really going to come out. Finally, she looked at the crumpled paper in her hand and bit her lip. Then, she kept it in her pocket to throw away at home.

* * *

Sam wanted to see Brahms — it was the first time in a long time that he had seen someone beg for his presence. Although the previous girl handled it well, he wasn't sure if Sam could, too.

This was not the same. There's no doll to take care of. No doll to take the blame. No doll to use as an excuse. It was all him.

Hearing her voice break had sent him weak. If there was anything Brahms understood about other people deeply, it was sadness...loneliness. And he saw it etched on her face. Sam was lonely, and so was Brahms. He was reaching for the knob, tired of looking through the peephole. He was so close to opening the door for her. But she crumpled the paper.

Brahms thought that she had given up. But he wasn't going to let her go.

* * *

He waited until night time before coming to visit her house. He anticipated Sam's frantic departure, just like everyone else. Instead, he saw her crying on the floor, her back facing him, giving him an opportunity to look closer.

He could almost hear her sobs. 

"Sam..." he whispered quietly in such a soft voice. Slowly, he touched the glass window, hoping he could touch her warm skin.

Later, he saw her quiet down. She moved, making him immediately hide. But all Sam did was slide comfortably on her bed to sleep.

* * *

"I'm sorry."

Sam had been staring at the note for an hour without moving. It's taking her a while to decide if she was going to reply or ignore him completely from then on.

"What the hell do I say to you?!" she said out loud, wishing she could just speak. It seemed better than exchanging vague messages.

She groaned, wondering what she was supposed to say. What was he even sorry about? Did he see her cry? Does that mean he was there watching and did not even show up? Is he sorry because he's married? 

"Why are you so..." she groaned again and gave up.

There's nothing left to do.

Sam ripped off a paper from her notebook and jotted down a paragraph of her thoughts. When she reread the message, she couldn't help but roll her eyes. She sounded so needy. How appalling for a stranger.

She ripped it apart and wrote a new letter.

* * *

"I'm not sure what you're apologising about."

She was wondering if it was even worth walking to the mansion just to send a single line. She wasn't even sure if he would respond properly.

But then again, she remembered, it wasn't as if she had anything else to do.

So she went, despite the bad weather. She fought the wind and walked to the mansion with the letter in hand. But she promised herself it would be the last time if he pissed her off again. There's quite a lot of people to befriend in the town, anyway, she tried to tell herself while walking to the Heelshire's.

As she reached the porch, Sam thought about giving it another chance. Maybe his apology meant that she could finally speak to him. But even before she could hold up her hand and knock, she heard rattling from inside.

Bingo, she thought.

"Brahms?" she knocked quickly, trying to make sure he would hear her before he left. She knocked repeatedly. 

It fanned a flame in her — and this time, she wasn't going to let him have his way.

A door slammed. She wasn't sure which part of the mansion but the message was clear. This man was avoiding her.

"Seriously?" she scoffed, "Fine."

She held up the letter and turned to show it around before speaking as loud as she could, almost adorably, like a young girl.

Brahms really hoped he didn't forget to close the kitchen door. He was in a hurry.

He had fallen asleep trying to watch her that night and only woke up to the crunching of leaves as she was leaving her house.

Brahms hoped that she wouldn't find the back door after it slammed thanks to the strong wind. And he had hoped she would just head straight home and leave the letter.

But Sam shouted one last time before storming off, "If you want the letter, then come get it. Feel free to knock on my door when you're ready." 


	5. Anticipation

Foolish people fall in love in two weeks time, ignore red flags, and dismiss advice from their friends. Luckily, no one can call me a fool because I'm not in love. I've learnt from the past. And plus, I can't fall for an idea. I just can't allow myself to fall head over heels because of a piece of paper. I can't be that fool again.

This is what I repeatedly told myself by noon, waiting for Brahms to come. It's not like I was anticipating chocolates and flowers. I was just expecting he'd come by and introduce himself at least. But I was stood up once more.

Despite this, I somehow wanted to keep my faith. Perhaps I was forcing an introverted man to socialise. That wouldn't be nice, I suppose, if it were me in his position. So I gave it time. After a while, I had forgotten about it. I had gotten lost in music and books in my own small cottage. I hadn't spent this much time alone and realised I was missing out on the beauty of solitude.

I managed to buy myself a pair of speakers. Perks of living away from people—getting to blast music without bothering your neighbours. It's also enough a ruse to make sure Brahms won't think I'm sulking that he had not shown up. "I'm not going to be sad over a boy," I muttered while plugging in my phone to play Charlotte Cardin's rendition of "[Wicked Games](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I6HeqmNoAFE)".

Looking out the window with a mug in hand, I watched a hint of orange peeking out of the clouds during sundown. It was almost unnoticeable. I stayed there, observing the outdoors without thinking of anything else. I finally had the privilege of not doing anything. I was thankfully away from responsibilities. I could breathe.

Billie Eilish's "[Hostage](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=skHbZBsS7hM)" came on. Something about it made me want to stay and walk around the place. I placed the mug on the table and paused for a while, reminiscing the times when I would dance in the studio alone when I had a chance. I moved a bit and extended my arms confidently, knowing I was alone. But mid-song, I stopped. I felt a little conscious because of the windows. It was sundown and yet there was still light outside. 

I moved the furniture to give myself more space to dance. But before anything, I prepared myself for a bath. It was time to focus on myself and nothing else this time.

By nighttime, I knew I wasn't going to stop. "[Quittin](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=na3aTfOOx9o)'" was playing loud and I had just gotten out of the bathroom. Slipping on a new nightgown I had bought at the store earlier, I felt different. It was time to recalibrate. I could not focus on other things. I needed to focus on me more than anything. This was the point of it all, anyway, I thought.

I realised that moving here was for myself. So, finally, I had given myself a pampering session I had always wanted and needed.

* * *

Sam's wet skin glistened under the light inside the cottage. She walked across the room with her hand gripping her red towel, looking for the new nightgown she had bought at a store in town. Brahms could not tear his gaze away from Sam's beauty. When she gestured to remove her towel, he gaped at her nakedness. Brahm's breath began to hitch under his porcelain mask while his size grew almost instantly. He tried to move away from the window, making sure he kept his distance. If she saw him, she would come running.

He didn't want her to run. What did he want? What was he doing at her cottage? He had forgotten now.

Brahms had been standing outside stealing glances since sundown. The thought of showing himself to her crossed his mind ever since she ordered him to. However, it was the previous experiences he had that kept him from following her wishes. Plus, he had gotten distracted with her graceful dancing once again. After realising he had been watching her for hours when she stopped dancing, he returned home to write a letter.

But he returned at the wrong time again. She had just gotten out of the shower. 

Brahms kept the note in his pocket to slowly reach for his manhood to slowly feel his erection. He kept eyes on Sam who was getting ready for bed. He had to stop, he ordered himself mentally. He couldn't stop but he knew he had to.

Exasperated, Brahms pulled himself away to walk towards the front porch.

All the while, Sam was lying on her bed. Until she had realised she hadn't locked the front door. Without a sound, Sam clambered out of bed and made her way out of the room.

Just in time for Brahms to slip his note. He nudged the piece of paper under the door, making sure it was inside the house. The white piece of paper had caught Sam's attention, making her pause. Quick-wittedly, Sam rushed to open the door and step out. "Brahms," she whispered.

In a split-second, Sam was staring at a figure in the dark, frozen in place.


End file.
